


In the Middle

by TanyaReed



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-19
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 10:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/pseuds/TanyaReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray, Meg, and Ben share the front of Ray's GTO.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Middle

“Hurry up. We're gonna be late,” Ray urged as Fraser opened up the passenger door of the GTO and clumsily pushed the seat slightly ahead. “If we're late, they'll kill us.”

Fraser had a look of concentration on his face as he tried to maneuver the giant cake in his hands into Ray's tiny backseat. “This might go faster if you helped me, Ray.”

“You're doin' fine.”

The cake wobbled and almost slid sideways out of Fraser's grip. Anyone less co-ordinated would have lost it. As it was, the cake went smoothly into place, taking up most of the seat. It was a good thing Dief was already at the house. He wouldn't have had a place to sit. 

Fraser shoved the seat back and got in beside Ray as Ray tapped the steering wheel in impatience. It was his fault that they were running a little late, but that didn't make him any less annoyed. The Vecchios were throwing Frannie a surprise birthday party and if he wasn't there with the cake when Maria brought her home from their day of shopping, there would be hell to pay.

As soon as Fraser was settled, Ray peeled away from the curb. 

“Be careful of the cake, Ray,” Fraser cautioned.

Ray was going to apologize when his phone rang. He frowned and considered not answering it because he didn't want to listen to someone ask him where he was or tell him to hurry up. In the end, he thought it might be Ma, and he wouldn't purposefully be rude to her for anything. When her real son went undercover, she could have resented Ray. Instead, she adopted him and took him into her family.

“Damn,” he mumbled before flipping his phone open and saying crossly, “Vecchio.”

“This is Detective Vecchio?” It was a woman's voice, slightly familiar, but Ray didn't recognize it. It was firm and cool with an almost hidden soft sexiness underneath.

“Yeah, this is Vecchio. Who's this?”

“It's Inspector Thatcher. Is Fraser there?”

Ray sighed heavily, not caring if she could hear it. It wasn't bad enough that the Ice Queen tormented Fraser at work, now she had to do it during his time off.

“Maybe,” he answered, glancing at Fraser. “It's Thatcher. Want me to hang up?”

“Don't you dare, Detective,” the Inspector's voice, now heated, said at the same time Fraser replied, “Of course not, Ray.”

“You're in luck,” Ray told her sweetly. “He's here.”

He handed the phone to Fraser so he didn't hear her answer, but it made Fraser pale and almost drop the phone.

“Sir?...No apology necessary, sir...Yes...No...Do you need assistance?”

Ray groaned when he heard that. They didn't have time to assist anybody, especially the Ice Queen. Assisting her always took hours.

“We're about a block from there, sir...No, it wouldn't be any trouble...You're welcome, sir...”

“What did you tell her we'd do, Fraser?” Ray demanded.

“The Inspector is in a bit of a pickle.”

“What kind of a pickle?” he asked darkly.

“Her car has broken down and she is without her wallet or her phone...” Ray raised his eyebrows. “She found a quarter in her pocket and called us from a nearby pay phone. She is too far from home to walk, and she is nervous because it is almost dark.”

“And?”

“And what, Ray?”

“How does this story end?” He paused. When Fraser didn't answer, he continued, “You promised we'd go get her, didn't you? We don't have time for side trips, Fraser. Maria will punch me in the head.”

“She will not punch you in the head.”

“She will punch me, Fraser. Right in the head.”

“You're being ridiculous.”

“You won't be the one with a lump on your head.”

“You can't expect to leave the Inspector stranded after dark with no money, Ray. She could be hurt.”

As much as Ray hated to admit it, Fraser was right and, as much as the Inspector annoyed him sometimes, he wouldn't want to see her hurt. He even kind of liked her, though he'd never admit it.

“All right. All right, but you'd better take my punch for me. Where is she?”

“Turn here.”

As soon as he turned, he saw her. Her car was sitting there on the shoulder, and she was leaning against it. She looked kind of small and lost in the twilight, and Ray felt a little better about picking her up.

She straightened as they approached and any vulnerability Ray thought he might have seen was gone. Her face was calm and serene and her dark eyes were full of impatience.

Ray rolled down his window. “Hey, Inspector.”

“Detective.” Her tone was chilly and he figured she was probably still cranky that he'd threatened to hang up on her.

“Problem?”

Her eyes flicked to Fraser. “I was informed that a ride home would not be too much of an imposition.”

“A ride home, huh?” He pretended to think about it.

“If it is too much trouble, I will walk home,” she said, raising her chin proudly. He saw a hint of nervousness in her eyes.

“Nah. Hop in.” She reached for the handle, so he added, “Fraser's side. You'll have to sit up front with us.”

Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

Ray made a gesture over his shoulder, so she peered through the back window.

“It's cake, sir,” Fraser offered.

“It's huge.”

“That reminds me,” Ray said. “We've got to make a stop first. How do you like parties, Inspector?”

“I think I'd rather walk.”

“Suit yourself.” Ray put his hand on the gearshift and pretended he was going to put the car in gear.

“Wait.”

He was hoping she'd stop him because there was no way he was going to leave her there. A group of lean, hungry looking teenagers had taken an interest in their conversation, and Ray didn't like the way the were eyeing the Ice Queen.

“Well?” he asked.

“What kind of party?”

“It's Francesca's birthday, ma'am,” Fraser said, opening his door and getting out.

“You needed a cake that huge for a _birthday_ party?”

“Lots of Vecchios,” Ray said. “Are you getting in or not?”

Instead of answering, she just went around the car. She gave Fraser an uncomfortable look before slipping past him and settling into the seat. She slid along it as far as she could go until she was pressed awkwardly against the gearshift. When Fraser got back in, she tried to move even further away but only succeeded in lightly hitting Ray in the stomach with her elbow. Her head whipped around to look at him in surprise.

“Excuse me,” she said, her face flushing in the dim light.

“It's okay,” he assured her, watching her face as he reached for the gearshift.

Anger sparked in her eyes just as he realized it wasn't the gearshift his hand was sitting on. Gearshifts weren't warm and soft, and they didn't feel like barely covered skin.

His gaze dropped to see his hand resting comfortably on the Inspector's pantyhose-clad knee. Just another inch and that crazy hand would have been up her skirt.

“Please keep your hands to yourself, Detective.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, jerking away as if burned.

The backs of his fingers brushed up along the outside of her thigh as he put the GTO in gear a few seconds later. He avoided looking at her as he left the curb. His touch wasn't enough to get her to move closer to Fraser, who was practically pressing himself against the door. It was almost as if they were afraid to accidentally brush each other. The Inspector didn't seem to feel quite so strongly about Ray. Her shoulder bumped his as he pulled into traffic.

“If you wanted to sit in my lap, Inspector, all you had to do was ask,” he commented, deciding to risk a glance.

She was glaring at him, and he couldn't help the smile that came to his face. Maybe giving her this ride wouldn't be so bad after all.

At his smile, her eyes narrowed, but she just asked coldly, “May I use your phone, Detective?”

“What for?”

“Inspector Thatcher's car has broken down, Ray,” Fraser said. “I'm sure she'd like to call a tow truck.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” He reached in his pocket with his right hand, bumping her ribs with his elbow. “Oops.”

As the Ice Queen took the phone from him, carefully avoiding his fingers, it began to ring. She started and fumbled but managed to keep hold of the phone. Instead of giving it back to Ray, she flipped it open and answered.

“Hello...Yes, this is Ray's phone...He's right here.” Glancing at Ray, she said, “It's for you.”

“Thanks.” He took the phone back, purposefully running his fingers along hers because he knew it would bug her. Into the phone, he said, “Yeah?”

“Ray, is that you?”

The voice was unfamiliar. “Who's this?”

“It's Emma.”

Emma was one of Frannie's cousins, and the two were like peas in a pod, right down to their personalities. “Hey.”

“Where are you? Why is there a woman answering your phone?” she demanded.

“That wasn't a woman. That was Inspector Thatcher.”

He saw the Ice Queen's face darken, and she gave him a heated glare and a frown.

“Who?”

“Fraser's boss.”

“Are you sleeping with her? Is that why you're late?”

The angry question made him almost drop the phone. The car swerved slightly and Thatcher cursed as she lost her balance and had to catch herself on his thigh.

“Of course not,” he said sharply. “We're on our way.”

“So, where are you?”

“About three blocks away. We'll be there in a minute.”

The Inspector's hand was still on his thigh when he hung up. He didn't even think she knew it was there.

“Are we going to arrive at the party alive, Detective?” she asked as she took the phone back with her right hand.

Instead of answering, Ray just reached down and slowly removed her other hand from his leg. He squeezed it briefly, enjoying its warmth and smoothness, before letting it go.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a horrified expression cross her face as she drew back her hand and clenched it in her lap. He wasn't quite sure if she was horrified that she touched him or that he touched her.

“Ray,” Fraser said sharply, making Ray's attention snap to the road.

A huge horse-drawn black buggy suddenly loomed in front of the GTO. Ray had no idea where it came from, and he had only seconds to react. With a grunt, he slammed on his breaks. The car lurched and everyone was thrown forward. It was only luck that he didn't hit anything soft and squishy as instinct made him fling out his right arm, catching the Inspector in the ribs. She hadn't put on her seatbelt, and Ray's restraining arm was the only thing that kept her from flying into the dashboard.

She muttered a curse and dropped Ray's phone on the floor.

“Are you all right, sir?” Fraser asked as he straightened in his seat.

“Never better, Constable,” she growled.

“Forget about her,” Ray said, awkwardly snatching his arm back. “How's the cake?”

In panic, he glanced into the backseat, imagining a crowd of Vecchio women holding him down and ripping out his insides. The cake was sitting precariously on the edge of the seat but had somehow not been knocked to the floor.

“Where the hell did that come from?” he demanded, glaring at the unmoving buggy. “Who drives a horse and buggy through downtown Chicago?”

“If you would have been watching the road, you would have had time to stop...and I wouldn't be developing a bruise on my ribcage,” the Ice Queen said icily.

“At least it isn't on your forehead,” he snapped back.

Fraser undid his seatbelt and opened his door. Ray's mouth popped open. The Mountie wasn't going to walk the rest of the way and leave Ray alone with Inspector Thatcher was he?

“What are you doing, Fraser?” the Ice Queen asked, echoing Ray's thoughts.

“I'm fixing the cake, ma'am. It will only take a minute.”

Not that time mattered, Ray thought grimly. The buggy didn't look as if it were going to move any time soon. Ray was going to have to pull out around it. If he were lucky, he wouldn't hit anyone in the process, but there was no way he was going to wait.

While Fraser was out sliding the cake back in place, Thatcher leaned forward and put one hand on the dash. The other hand fished around near Ray's legs, and her face almost touched Ray's knee. He felt her questing fingers dance briefly up his pant leg a couple of inches and grimaced.

“What are _you_ doin'?”

“Looking for the phone.”

“Well, it's not up my pant leg.”

“Sorry.”

She sat up triumphantly just as Fraser was getting back into the car, and she was dialing even before Fraser had his seatbelt on. Absently, Ray listened to her talk to her mechanic in a clipped, professional tone as he carefully inched his car around the horse-drawn monstrosity in front of him.

“How'd you make out?” he asked as he eased himself back into traffic—just in time to catch a red light.

“They won't pick it up until tomorrow since it's after six.”

He made a non-committal sound.

“It was reasonable, I suppose,” she continued, “but I don't like leaving my car in that neighborhood overnight.”

“It should be all right.” But he had his doubts.

She frowned, showing she did too.

Not knowing why, he added, “You need a ride to work tomorrow?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

He shrugged, stepping on the gas when the light changed. “I gotta come pick Fraser up in the mornin' since he works the afternoon shift. I could always drop you off while I'm at it.”

A look of genuine warmth and surprise flashed over her face. “That's very nice of you, Detective.”

“Don't read anything into it. I'm goin' there anyway.”

“I accept your offer.” She swallowed. “Thank you.”

The Inspector wasn't so bad, Ray decided. She hadn't slapped him when he accidentally felt her up and, despite her pride, she'd actually thanked him.

He mulled this over as he pulled up in front of the Vecchio house. There were cars everywhere, but Ray somehow managed to find a small spot where he'd be able to wedge his own. He heard Thatcher's breath catch as he almost clipped two cars trying to maneuver his GTO between them.

“Piece of cake,” he commented as he stopped and geared down. Once more, his fingers brushed the nearly naked skin of her thigh.

The Ice Queen actually snorted at his words, so he smiled at her. Her own expression was one of semi-amused tolerance.

As Ray and Fraser simultaneously opened their doors, she asked, “How long do you expect this party to last?”

“With the Vecchios, hard to tell. Maybe an hour, maybe five.”

“Five?” Her eyes widened.

“Yeah. Don't worry. You'll have fun.”

“I'm staying in the car.”

Fraser had been reaching his hand out to help her across the seat but froze at her words. “Sir?”

“What is it, Fraser?”

“Won't you be cold?”

“No.” If her voice was any indication, she was already cold.

“You can't sit out here in the car,” Ray told her bluntly.

“Why is that, Detective?”

“Because I said so.”

She looked stunned. “What?”

“I said so. Get out.”

“I don't know any of these people.”

“You know Francesca, sir,” Fraser said gently.

Ray saw no reason to be gentle. “C'mon. You rub elbows with kings and princes and stuff all the time at that Consulate of yours. You go to fancy parties and even fancier meetings. Don't tell me meetin' a couple of Vecchios has you scared.”

She raised her chin. “I am not scared, I assure you.”

“Yeah, right. Well, stay out here and freeze to death. See if I care.”

Thatcher let out a long-suffering sigh and started to slide across the seat. Fraser offered his arm, but she ignored it.

When she stepped out, Fraser threw the seat ahead and started fighting with the cake. She watched him for a couple of seconds before going over to Ray and handing him his phone.

“Five hours?” she asked.

“If it will make you feel more comfortable, I'll tell people you're my girlfriend.”

This got another fire-filled glare. “Don't you dare.”

He grinned. “It was just a suggestion.”

“In thanks for the ride, I won't tell you what you can do with your suggestion.”

She started to turn away from him, so he said, “Geez, lady, would it hurt you to smile for once?”

The Ice Queen stopped and regarded him coolly. “If you eventually say something worth smiling about, I just might.”

That was a challenge if he ever heard one. He watched her go over and help Fraser with the cake, his mind working. Making her smile—a real smile, not one of those fake diplomatic ones—would take some doing. Still, he was up for the challenge.

“Are you coming, Ray?” Fraser asked, lugging that humongous cake as if it weighed nothing. Ray knew if he were the one carrying it, he'd be staggering all the way up the walk.

“Sure.”

He hurried to follow the Mounties . As he did, he wondered what Thatcher would do if he really told people that she was his girlfriend. He glanced at her face, imagining the outrage. Suddenly, he was looking forward to the party.

It was going to be fun.

**Author's Note:**

> I know Ray probably has bucket seats, but for the purpose of this story, he's got bench. :)


End file.
